Races Around
by Teepot
Summary: A friend from Max and Isabelle's past returns with a seeming interest in anything alien. But does she know about her three friends? Or is she concerned with her own abilities? Maria's gone, Alex is dead, Michael, Isabel, Max, Liz and Kyle have to decide i
1. Chapter 1

Race Around

AN: Branching out from Newsie fiction. And trying to get this new system under my belt. My word processor hates it. My Roswell world is strange. I pick and choose the details that I want to include and all I can guess is that this picks up where Season Two dropped off, sort of.

Chapter 1

He could tell by the "one beep, two beep" rule that Monday morning had not started off smoothly within the Evan's household. Checking the lock on his door he jumped down his front steps, slapping his back pocket so that his wallet and keys jingled, as Isabel pushed the horn for the third, fourth, and fifth time.

"Whys she driving?" Michael asked, throwing first his book bag and then himself into the backseat of Max's jeep.

Max turned slowly around in his seat, not wanting to make any frantic movements in fear of another Isabel attack. He shrugged, eyes widening as Isabel only paused at the street's stop sign. "Michael, Max, we've gone over this." All three lurched forwards as the jeep stopped for a red light. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel Isabel glared at Michael through the rear view mirror. "Today is Susanna's first day of school and we're picking her up so that she doesn't have to take that nasty bus…"

"Who's she talking about?" Michael interrupted causing Isabel to growl loudly and stop shortly in one of the newer neighborhoods of Roswell. She jumped out of the jeep, throwing Max the keys before running up to a house whose windows still had the brand new stickers on them.

Max shifted over to the driver's seat, amused with Isabel's anxiety and Michael's blatant disregard. "Susanna's a family friend, Michael. Remember? She used to live in Roswell. Her and Iz were like, best friends in first grade."

"Ah, so, we're giving the girl a ride to school. Lovely."

"They're only going to be here a couple months. I guess her and her dad move around a lot." Max started up the car as both girls exited the house. Isabel was beaming as she helped carry one of Susanna's many bags. "We can entertain her for then and hopefully stay out of trouble long enough to avoid any more explanations."

"Preaching to the choir Maxwell." Michael grumbled just as the two girls reached the jeep. He always knew when to take a jab at Max for starting this whole thing of introducing humans into the bunch. Liz had only opened a portal for more to follow.

The girl beaming in the seat next to him tucked a backpack in between her legs before grabbing a large black portfolio from Isabel and resting it on her lap. "Hi, you must be Michael." She offered her hand for him to shake.

"Yup."

"I'm Susanna."

"Hey."

From the driver's seat, Max caught Susanna's eye. "He's not much of a talker."

Isabel twisted in her seat, deftly changing the subject. "What's your schedule like?"

Susanna leaned easily against the frame of the Jeep after passing Isabel a heavily folded and unfolded paper. Notes were written on all sides and Michael glanced a quickly written phone number with the words 'UFO Museum' in one corner. He thought nothing of it, about to mention that Max worked there, when Susanna herself began to speak.

"American Lit. with Mr. Tuner. He any good?" The duo in front nodded their heads. "Then Environmental, some Virtual High School class and Art 4 last. Perfect end to the day." Susanna tilted her face towards the blue New Mexico sky. "You guys have any of the same classes?"

Max shook his head while Isabel frowned quickly. "Michael, aren't you in that Art class?" She remembered.

"Yea."

Susanna smiled, bouncing in her seat to face him better. "Really? Do you like it? I have a meeting with Mr. Gerwick this afternoon. He wants to look at my stuff so that I don't have to start at Art 2 or something."

"He's okay. Pretty much lets you do your own stuff." Michael ran a hand through his hair and Susanna laughed. She reached out to touch where a long blob of red paint had landed on his forearm.

Michael reacted slowly, too surprised to pull his hand away as quickly as would have been expected. Still laughing at the other spots of paint she encountered as she moved up his wrist to his broad palm, Susanna was unaware of Isabel giggling at Michael's stunned reaction. "I should have known. You're covered in paint!" She let her fingers rest in his palm, revealing her own blue and red colored fingernails. "Acrylic. Do you use oils?"

She looked up into Michael's eyes just as a small glow of light began to circle around Michael's palm. He noticed the extraterrestial reaction starting to grow brighter, surprised to find his powers working so easily. Concentrating enough he tried to stop the light, hoping off hand that Susanna would think nothing of it. When the pulsing only continued to expand, as if tracing the veins in his palm and down his arm, he pulled away harshly. He was too confused by his body's reaction to notice Susanna blush in embarrassment and shrink back into her own seat.

Pulling into the school parking lot, Max noticed Michael's shocked expression and Isabel's unusual silence. He parked and turned in his seat, "Okay, Turner's class. I'm in the room next door. Want me to show you the way?"

Susanna recovered easily, stumbling from behind the passenger seat that was pulled forward and adjusting her backpack. "Thanks Max." She waved to Michael and planned to meet up with Isabel for lunch, before turning back to Max and confessing how nervous she was. Their laugher drifted away as Max led Susanna towards the front door, turning back to give the duo a look that said they'd be having a meeting later. "I wanna introduce you to my girlfriend, Liz. I'm pretty sure she's in your American Lit class…"

"What was that?" Isabel asked, flat out, eyes reflecting a worry Michael never liked to see.

"So you saw it, I wasn't just, imaging it?"

She opened the passenger side door. "No, it was there."

"But why?" Michael jumped out after her, turning to lean his back up against the side of the Jeep, still holding his right hand oddly in his left.

"I don't know, Michael." Isabel shoved him and walked in a quick circle, obviously frustrated. "It was coming from your hand!"

"But I couldn't control it. I tried and— " He grabbed his bag from inside the Jeep and started towards the school. "that wasn't me. Those weren't my powers."

"Look, whatever it was, it happened because Susanna was touching your hand." Isabel stalked after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to a stop before they reached the groups of kids waiting around outside. "We'll talk to Max during free period but until then, don't touch her!"

Michael huffed. "Fine by me."

"But be nicer Michael, this is like the sixth school she's moved to within ten or so years. And while she's here, we're her new circle of friends."

Michael shook his head at Isabel's hypocrisy. Stay away from Susanna but be her friend? He didn't feel the childhood connection he knew Isabel remembered with this new girl. And steering towards his locker, his hand twitching uncontrolably, a thought hit him.

Why move back to Roswell?

"A light?" Max turned as Liz placed a hand on his shoulder, sliding into the seat next to him after showing Susanna the art room.

"A glowing, pulsating, _alien_ light." Michael corrected, supsiciously scanning his eyes around the cafeteria before leaning closer to Max and Isabel.

"From your hand."

Michael shrugged. "Well, yea. On my skin, but I think it was because of Susanna."

"Wha--? Why do you think that?"

A group of cheerleaders approached the table, about to offer a petition for new uniforms when they caught Michael's more than unwelcoming expression. He cleared his throat as the group skittered away and the other three at the table leaned in closer. "Oh c'mon Maxwell. A distant friend whose been travelling around the country with her father suddenly ends up in Roswell, of all places, and you take that as customary?"

"She told me just now that she grew up in Roswell, left when she was eight." Liz popped a carrot into her mouth, "I knew her name sounded familiar."

"Why'd she leave Roswell anyway?" Michael eyed Isabel and Max, both having suddenly turned to share a secret message.

Max placed his hands on the table, spreading his fingers wide, as if preparing for another one of Michael's crazy schemes. He was still recovering from the jump out of Valenti's office window. "What are you suggesting Michael?"

"Don't avoid the question, Maxwell." He mimicked his friend's accusing tone.

Just as Max sighed, glancing at Isabel who shook her head, Liz's phone interuppted. The group turned as she answered, two out of the three happy for the delay until Liz spoke. "Hey! Maria!" All eyes floated back to Michael, his arms crossed protectively across his chest. "No, no, I'm in the cafeteria. How are—oh sure. Hold on a sec." Liz dropped the phone from her lips and whispered. "Maria says hi. I'll be right back."

As Liz drifted through the crowded cafeteria to the outside terrace, Isabel and Max wondered whether or not they should comment on Michael's obvious Maria issue. "Don't say it." He beat them to it, rubbing his hand roughly across his face. "Just tell me why Susanna left."

"Her mom died Michael, unexpectedly." Isabel shifted in her seat. "Happy now?"

"And they split after? That just makes this even more suspicious. Why return to a place filled with memories of your dead mother?"

"So sensitive of you Micheal," Isabel interupted, "and Susanna is not with the FBI."

"I wasn't thinking FBI." Michael rolled his eyes, spinning an empty coke bottle on the lunchroom tabletop. "I was thinking alien."

"Now you're really out there Michael." Isabel tapped the countertop anxiously.

"Why? Because you were best friends when you were six? You said so yourself, the light started when Susanna touched my hand."

Isabel rested an aching head in her right hand. "Michael, I just can't believe it. Susanna was the first friend I had after getting adopted. We've kept in touch over the years, and…"

"So you knew she was moving back?"

"No, we—she stopped writing back a couple years ago. I guess they moved again, and I didn't get the new address." A silence settled between the trio. "Don't look at me like that, Michael."

"We've dealt with this before." He explained. "It's no different now."

"She could have been chosen because of your attachment, Isabel." Max remarked, looking between his sister and best friend. "Look, lets meet at the Crashdown after school. We can talk more about this then."

"Max!" His sister cried. "You don't possibly believe that Susanna's a skin!"

"I'll admit that it is weird Iz, for Michael's hand just to start glowing and for her to return so suddenly. Mr. Harris didn't even contact mom and dad about the move and they were friends since high school." He turned to Michael as he raised from his chair. "But we can't just jump to conclusions, Michael. She might not even be a skin. She could be something much more dangerous."

"Whatever," Michael jumped out of his seat, sending his chair angrily across the tile floor. "I'll see ya then."

Just then, Liz returned from her phone call. After watching Michael's hasty departure she decided against telling him about her most recent phonecall. Grabbing her books off the table she started towards the exit with Isabel and Max. "He's been even more moody lately," Liz commented. "Ever since Maria left."

The bell rang overhead and the sea of students rose to their feets. "Are you working this afternoon?"

Liz nodded, kissing Max quickly before heading for her next class. "Wait," she turned back with a new thought. "Don't you have to give Susanna a ride home?"

Max looked to Isabel for the answer. "No," she sighed heavily before pulling her book bag over her shoulder. "She has track practice, or some meeting with the coach."

"Okay, three o'clock. Tell Kyle if you see him."

Susanna raced around one corner of the school only to find another long hallway instead of the art room she'd been hoping for. After her meeting with Mr. Gerwick, a goofy old man who genuienly loved art and couldn't stop asking her questions about her summer spent in Florence, she'd been called down to the office to meet with her guidance counselor. Now, late for Mr. Gerwick's class by 15 minutes, she couldn't find her way back. Thinking back to the route that Liz had showed her earlier she recognized a partly finished mural on the wall. She hurried past a row of lockers and turned right, happy to find the large red door, painted with colored designs to set it apart from the other rooms. She opened the door slowly, apologizing for being late.

"Class, this is Susanna Harris, a new student here at West Roswell. Susanna, we started portraiture last week, you'll catch up quickly. Please take a seat." Mr. Gerwick turned back to the sketch on the difference between profiles and three-quarter views.

Susanna scanned the room of unfamiliar faces, smiling when she saw the brown bent head of Michael. Weaving through the tables towards the back of the room she seemed unaware of why there might be empty seats only at Michael's table. Pulling out a chair, it echoed louder than expected. Mr. Gerwick turned at the noise with the rest of the class, just as Michael pulled himself away from his own sketch in surprise. Susanna slipped her backpack to the floor, smiling at Michael with the enthusiasm of someone suddenly rescued. "Ah, Susanna…"

Both Susanna and Michael turned towards Mr. Gerwick, only one aware of why he broke away again from his instructions on the board. "Yes?"

"Can you see from back there?" Mr. Gerwick coughed lightly. Susanna smiled before nodding her head and turning back to ask Michael how his afternoon was, the only one in the room ready to move on from the awkward moment she was unaware of. "Mr. Guerin, a why don't, um…"

"Oh, don't worry 'bout a thing, Mr. Gerwick. I'll show Susanna the ropes." Michael teased, forcing a bright smile as the rest of the class rolled their eyes.

"Yes, well…" Mr. Gerwick attacked the board again with the chalk in his hand.

Susanna, sensing now the tension in the room, addressed Michael. "That was weird."

"He didn't want you to sit back here." Michael explained, speaking to the pencil and paper beneath his nose.

"Why?" Susanna whispered, bending so that her nose was level with his. She glimpsed a geometric dome before he sighed, covered the sketch with his hand, and raised to his elbows.

"He doesn't like me."

"Oh." Susanna replied, deciding not to ask a follow-up question when Michael returned to his drawing. She turned to watch Mr. Gerwick's instructions on the board, stuffing her hands beneath her thighs and tapping her toes to a beat within her head.

Michael stole a glance at her from underneath his bent head as she fidgeted in her seat. Mr. Gerwick finished quickly, allowing the rest of the class to return to what they'd begun last week. Susanna peered around the room, comfortable enough among familiar paints and brushes to search for a drawing board, paper and pencil for herself. When she returned, she was surprised to find Michael's raised head and attentive eyes. "You can paint for this project if you want." He ducked his head again when she smiled appreciatively. "He said that last class."

"Thanks," she dropped a couple pencils on the table, allowing them to roll to a stop by Michael's left arm. "I'm gonna sketch something first. That always helps."

Michael muttered an inaudible response but Susanna didn't mind. She noticed the concentration in his hand and the instinctive sweeps of his wrist as he continued to construct his dome.

Falling easily into the sketch in front of her, Susanna noticed Mr. Gerwick roaming from one table to the next to help any student in need. Listening to some of his comments and the questions of the other students, it seemed as if Michael was the only student not drawing a self-portrait of some kind.

She returned to her sketch, bored with the easy precision of drawing the eyes, nose, and mouth. She grabbed the eraser right above Michael's steadying left hand, returning her paper to the blank white canvas it had been moments before. Michael looked up when the eraser dropped back into it's place, surprised to find himself comfortable with the working silence between them.

She began to sketch Michael's profile, amused with her game and wondering how long it would take before Michael noticed.

"Very nice Susanna," Mr. Gerwick leaned to one side of the table, peering at the paper propped on the drawing board that Michael could not see. Susanna turned at the comment, smiling up at the old man but saying nothing before returning to her sketch. After a few more moments of silence Mr. Gerwick cleared his throat awkwardly and straightened to his feet, ready to move on. "Feel free to make the assignment more creative if you wish. I know you've already completed several self-portraits."

"Thanks Mr. Harris."

"Although I like your choice of subject. Maybe sketching Mr. Guerin will help us understand him better." Michael looked up at that comment, and noticed a light blush spreading across Susanna's cheeks as she bent her head towards the board.

Walking around behind Michael, Mr. Gerwick paid little attention to sketch on the table. "Mr. Guerin, again, perfect dome. Try branching out any time."

Just when Mr. Gerwick turned, satisfied or accustomed to a silent response from this particular student, Michael said, "I've taken that into consideration."

"Wow," Susanna watched Mr. Gerwick hurry away, pretending to answer the question of another student, "you're right. He doesn't like you." She tried to joke away the grimace on Michael's face. "How come?"

"Look, feel free to sit here, I don't care," He graced her with brief eye contact, "but I can tell ya that you haven't made any new friends in this class by sitting by me."

"That's alright." A small pink tongue slipped out of her mouth as she tilted up her drawing board and picked up another pencil. "I don't need to make friends." Her eyes studied the angles of his jawbone.

Michael paused in his drawing, the blunt and emotionless tone of her voice sparking in his mind. He hadn't been concerned with his alien theory when she walked through the classroom door, but now her statement seemed to allude at something else. "What?"

"Isabel's my best friend, Michael. And Max seems to have remained as friendly as ever. Liz is sweet and," she shrugged, long enough for him to look up.

He turned back to his sketch and Susanna continued working herself. "Why'd you move back here?" He asked, suddenly. She caught his eye before smiling slightly.

"Good question." She chuckled before picking up her pencil again. "I guess I…"

A knock at the red classroom door caused all heads to turn. Mr. Gerwick opened it quickly, conversing silently with the other man as only teachers know how to do. Before Mr. Gerwick even turned around, Michael started picking up his things, closing his sketchbook and sliding his pencil into his pocket. "Mr. Guerin, they'd like to see you in the principal's office." Mr. Gerwick annouced to the class.

Susanna noticed the other students snicker to themselves and the bored unconcern on Mr. Gerwick's face, as if he'd uttered that phrase many times before. Turning back to Michael's face she was surprised to find him looking at her. "This is why no one sits with me."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Max turned to look behind him, glancing at Isabel and Michael before knocking politely on the white front door of the Harris household. Liz shifted next to him, slipping her hand into his before smiling reassuringly. From inside a voiced called, "Come in!" and laughter could be heard a moment later. He recognized the muffled voice of his parents, their car in the driveway not as comforting as he had hoped.

He pushed open the door slowly, only to have it suddenly swing wide, a smiling Susanna holding on the other end. "Sorry we're late." He apologized, moving further in so that Isabel and Michael could follow.

"Oh, no, you're right on time. Your parents just got here." Susanna reached for their coats, wiping her hands on the apron wrapped around her waist before hanging them quickly in the small closet to the right. Her hair was held up against her neck thanks to a small nubby pencil and across her cheek was a powdering of flour. "They're in the living room. I just have to pull the chicken out of the oven." She motioned to the room from where the laughter was coming from before spinning on her bare feet and returning to the kitchen.

Pausing in the doorway, Max looked once again to his sister. They'd decided less than a week ago, that afternoon at the Crashdown, that as usual remaining low key was best for either situation regarding Susanna. Isabel would find out some more information as to what her friend had been up to the past couple years—hopefully ruling out the possiblity of alien abduction. If nothing suspicious was discovered than a low profile would keep Susanna from finding out her friend's real identities. If by chance, exteresstial happenings did seem to be Susanna's forte then decisions would be made then.

It was still awkward between the group of friends and Susanna. Max and Liz tried their best to welcome the girl while Isabel's over enthusiastic smiles appeared whenever Michael's mood turned sour. Kyle had been introduced days ago and they had the sports connection covered.

"Well, lets go in and see mom and dad." Isabel suggested, pushing through the awkward silence of Max and Michael. From where they stood in the hall, they could hear the conversation that had stopped the laughter.

"So Paul," her father's voice began, "before we start talking about everything else that's happened over the last ten years, tell us, why'd you move back?" Isabel paused, Michael bumping into her back clumsily.

A deep voice responded. "Honestly, it wasn't my decision. Susanna just suddenly starting pushing it, and well…" He awkwardly cleared his throat, "it was what she wanted and I just couldn't say no."

Although still consumed with the suspicious news of the Harris' return to Roswell, Isabel had started walking towards the room again. Mrs. Evan's excited voice, broke the four friend's from their shared contemplation. "Hey! Here they are." Mrs. Evans hopped to her feet, ushering the four teenagers into the room with one hand, while holding onto her white wine with the other. "Izzie, Max, you remember Mr. Harris."

The familiar bald head of Mr. Harris greeted the group with a warm smile. He was holding his own glass of wine, switching it to his left after hugging Isabel so that he could shake Max's hand. "Wow, you two look great."

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Harris." Max replied "Ah, this is my girlfriend, Liz."

"Hi Liz," Mr. Harris greeted easily, shaking her small hand also. "You're in Susanna's American Lit class right?"

"Yeah, we're working on our midterm project together."

Isabel pushed Michael to the front. "This is our friend Michael."

"Nice to meet you Michael."

Michael gripped Mr. Harris' tanned hand, concentrating on shaking this man's hand firmly and looking him in the eye. He felt the strange need to make a good impression. "Nice to meet you too, sir."

"Oh please, call me Paul." His deep laugh was twice as loud as what he'd heard standing on the front stoop. "Sir makes me sould so old."

"Well, we are old, Paul." Mr. Evan's teasing caused the adults to erupt into another round of laughter just as Susanna entered the room.

"Supper's ready!" She clapped, calling the group's attention, and Michael noticed that she shared her father's smile.

"Let's move into the dining room then." Mr. Harris instructed, leading the way as Susanna skipped behind the rest. She waited in the doorframe, proud of the neatly spread table. At one head of the table sat a chicken breast with bowls of vegetables, potatoes, and rolls spread around the candle centerpiece.

"Oh Susanna, you did this all by yourself. Child," cooed Mrs. Evans, taking Susanna's freshly washed face in her hands. "Bless you."

"Please, Mrs. Evans. Sit down, enjoy." She replied, brushing off the compliment quickly and rushing to one end of the table. "Mr. Evans," she pressed, "you and dad at the head of the table."

Mr. Evans shook his head. "Oh no, this is such a lovely meal. You deserve to be at the head of it all."

"I'm perfectly fine here." Susanna explained, placing her drink to the left of her father's seat. Next to her slipped Isabel and Mrs. Evans while Michael, Max and Liz filled the seats on the opposite side. "Besides, I still need to check on the dessert so this way I can run back and forth."

Susanna chose that moment to return to the kitchen, on the heels of everyone's compliments as they passed the food around.

"So Mr. Harris," Max began after fixing his potatos, "what was my dad like in high school."

"Hey now!" Mr. Evan's laughed, pointing at his friend with a butter knife, "Be fair."

Mr. Harris placed his wine glass on the table, swallowing the last of his drink. "Well, always the one getting me out of trouble." He chuckled, winking at Max, "I think I'm the reason he decided to be a lawyer. He'd already helped me out of enough tough situations."

"Yes, that's true." Mr. Evans agreed with forced seriousness, "But I ignored those mishaps because he was the cool jock who got me into parties." Everyone laughed while Isabel exclaimed in false surprise. "Besides, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have met your mother."

Liz and Isabel awwed at the cutesy display before Mrs. Evans interrupted. "I dated Paul first." The aws quickly turned into louder bouts of laughter. "Then realized the error of my ways and fell for your father."

Susanna returned, pushing through the swinging door that separated the dining room from the kitchen. "I almost forgot," she said, placing a bottle of Tabasco sauce on the table before sliding into her own seat.

"Oh, how funny." Isabel caught Liz's wide eyes and Max's furrowed brow while Michael reached easily for the Tabasco, pausing a moment with the same shock his three friends felt. Mrs. Evans reached for the bottle after Michael finished using it, trying to act as if nothing were out of the ordinary. "Is and Max love this on chicken also. Isn't it strange?"

"Totally," Susanna agreed, passing the Tabasco over to Isabel. Liz, Michael, Max and Isabel all noticed that she didn't add any of the spice to her own plate. "And everyone reacts that way. But I just always remember it being on the kitchen table at night. Its funny, but some things just stick with you. It feels weird if it's not there, even though, neither one of us uses it."

"Karen loved the stuff." Mr. Harris explained between forkfuls of masked potatoes. "It was like, all of a sudden, she couldn't live without it."

"I remember!" Laughed Mrs. Evans. "It was right around the time we adopted Max and Isabel. We had a dinner at our house and Karen just consumed the stuff."

"We thought she was pregnant again!" Added Mr. Evans.

"Strange," Max mumbled, pouring some of the sauce on his plate before glancing at Liz out of the corner of his eye. Michael was staring strangly across the table at Susanna while Isabel foucsed intently on the food on her plate.

"So, I heard something about my dad dating your mom." Susanna laughed, reaching for the potatos in front of Max.

He smiled. "Yea, but then my dad moved in for the kill."

Paul cleared his throat. "I wasn't too heartbroken though," a slow grin slid across his tanned features. "Susanna's mother worked with your mother."

"Oh! That's right. Down at the Put'n'Put." Mrs. Evans laughed as the conversation continued down memory lane. She turned to address Susanna. "The summer your mother started working there, it was like…I'd never seen so many men excited to play miniature golf."

"I didn't know you were friends for so long." Susanna smiled. For a brief second, Michael thought he caught a twinge of sadness at the corners of her lips.

"Oh yes, your mother was one of my closest friends."

A brief silence settled around the table, alluding to what all around the table were thinking of—the person missing. While most returned to pushing their food around their plates, Michael watched Susanna. She glanced at the ceiling before sighing and dropping her napkin onto a mostly empty plate. "Well," she smiled, as if giving the rest of the group permission to return to happier topics. "I better check on dessert. Excuse me."

"So Paul," Mr. Evans pushed his plate further towards the middle of the table so he could rest his elbows comfortably in it's space. "Are you still interested in that ridiculous Iron Man training?"

"Yes, the company that I work for is setting up a new training facility a couple of towns over. I'll be in the office a couple days a week but really, I've earned some time off to train." Mr. Harris wiped his mouth quickly, turning as the door from the kitchen swung open. He smiled at his daughter. "I'm also helping down at the high school. With the track program."

Susanna slipped back into her seat next to her father. "Oh, are you running Susanna?" Asked Mrs. Evans.

"You were always the best in those small fry soccer games." Smiled Mr. Evans.

Susanna fiddled with a lock of her hair. "Yea, indoor track is almost over so I'm just practicing with them until outdoor."

"She'll be running the 5K on the track." Beamed Mr. Harris. As the adults continued to talk about her, Susanna reached for the plates within arms reach. She began to stack when Mrs. Evans asked. "And how much is that?"

"3.1 miles." Her father answered. "She has her first meet coming up next week."

"It's a scrimage." She slipped the emptly plate from underneath Michael's nose before grabbing his fork and knife next. Seemingly on auto-pilot she continued. "Really, coach just wants to put us in a competitive position. It's better than time trials."

Mrs. Evans smiled at her son. "I wish Max would run. He was such a good athlete."

Mr. Harris seemed to perk at the possibility. "We could use some more guys on the team." While Susanna smiled at the boys from underneath her eyelashes, still collecting plates to take into the kitchen, her father continued his recruitment of Max and Michael. "You don't have to run, throwing shot or disc is an option also."

The boys caught each other's eyes. "I have work after school." Max explained, "I'm trying to say up for this new stereo system."

Michael was a bit more forward. "The uniform does it for me."

"Dad," Susanna tried to change the subject, aware of how uncomfortable her friends had seemed all evening, but all she could come up with was, "Michael's in my art class."

"Ah, I thought this was the same Michael." Max and Isabel exchanged amusing glances as Michael fumbled with his napkin and Susanna escaped to the kitchen with her newly acquired stack of plates. "Susanna says that you have an eye for architecture."

"I just sketch." He threw the napkin onto the table and forced a smile.

"Well, we have plenty of books in the library if you want to check out some of the great architects. Back when a building was a work of sculpture itself." Still forcing his smile, Michael said nothing, looking to Max and Isabel for a quick rescue.

"Whew. I'm stuffed." Mr. Evans allowed Susanna to reach for his plate as she circled the table one more time for the extra plates.

"This was so good Susanna."

Isabel pushed back her chair as Susanna passed her. "Please, let us clean up." She grabbed the stack, twirling out of Susanna's reach before disappearing into the kitchen. Behind her she called. "Sit for once tonight."

"You can grab the plates but I still need to finish with dessert. Then I can sit." Susanna followed Isabel into the kitchen and their muffled conversation could be heard from behind the swinging door.

"Max, are you still planning on going to that movie?" Max checked his watch at his mother's reminder.

"We should probably leave." Liz responded, turning to Mr. Harris. "Thank you so much for having us over for dinner."

"My pleasure Liz. I hope to see you around here more often." He stood as the couple pushed in their chairs. "Max," he shook his hand. "Stop by that meet if you're interested. I'm sure Susanna would love an audience."

Max laughed and shook his head. "I'll try to make it." He walked towards the other side of the table, patting his dad on the back before kissing his mother's cheek goodbye. "Michael," he eyed his friend who seemed uncomfortable at the table of adults. "Basketball tomorrow." Liz waved goodbye, dragging Max into the kitchen first to say goodnight to Isabel and Susanna.

After sitting at the silent table, listening to the conversation in the kitchen and then Max and Liz shutting the front door behind them, Michael stood. "Ah," he glanced at the three still sitting, "I'll go help dry."

He passed Susanna coming out of the kitchen, holding what seemed to be a warm apple crisp. She smiled at him appreciativly although he didn't know exactly what for. Isabel soon followed, carrying coffee cups. "The mug of coffee, Michael." She hissed.

He rolled his eyes, following her directions and slipping past Susanna one last time as he exited the kitchen. Although he'd intended to return to the boring yet distracting task of washing dishes, Isabel roped him into pouring coffee as she passed out the saucers and cups. Only when the coffee mug was empty in the center of the table and Mr. and Mrs. Evans had begun retelling another Susanna Isabel story from when they were kids, did Michael slip into the kitchen.

At the sink stood Susanna, resting her hands on the counter and leaning over the soapy water below. The dim light from the window behind the sink haloed her form and Michael hesitated to break the silence. In the end, it was Isabel, glad to have escaped the dining room, who bumped into him with the swinging door. "Michael, what are you doing?"

Susanna jumped at Isabel's voice or more specifically at the mention of Michael in the room. She smiled at both of her new friends, unaware of the soap suds now on her forhead. "Suz, think you can steal away with us? As much as I love apple crisp, the Crashdown has a great hot fudge sundae."

Susanna smiled as Isabel dropped the coffee pot into the sink, splashing water onto the counter. "Nah, not tonight." She caught Michael's eye as he pushed himself up onto the kitchen counter. "Thanks for coming over though. I hope my father wasn't too boring."

"Are you kidding, it's funny listening to all my parent's horror stories." Isabel rolled up her sleeves, about to dive into the sink full of water when Susanna pushed shook her head. "Are you sure you don't want us to finish cleaning up?"

"Don't worry about it." She replied, already elbow deep in the water.

"Okay," Isabel said hesitantly, "cya on Monday, right? Seven o'clock."

"I'll be there." Susanna smiled, a quick flash before remembering something. "Oh, and give my a call after your date with Billy tomorrow. Let me know how it goes."

Isabel nodded, ignoring Michael's questioning raise of the eyebrows as she pulled him down the hallway towards the front door. They passed the open dining room and the adults turned. "Mom, Dad, we're gonna walk home."

"Sure you don't want a ride?" Mrs. Evan's pressed.

"It's a nice night." Michael answered, shoving hands deep within his pockets and stealing a quick glance in the kitchen where Susanna was snooping for more dish towels underneath the sink.

"Perfect for star gazing." Added Mr. Harris. As Isabel and Michael turned towars the door, waving one last good bye, he continued. "That's what I missed about New Mexico. Karen loved driving out and watching the stars. She could sit out there for hours…"

Outside, Isabel wrapped her arms around her waist, surprised by the cool nighttime air. Noticing, Michael stopped abruptly. "Shit, my coat." He turned towards the Harris' household, lights from the dining room shining out into the street. "I forgot it inside." He called, jogging the quick distance back to the front door.

He slipped inside quietly, not wanting to create another line of questions from the Evans' and Mr. Harris. The night itself had been on and off again uncomfortable for Michael, never one accustomed to family dinners and normal pleasantries with guests. He wanted to escape, as soon as possible.

Yet as he reached into the closet, leafing through the hangers for his jacket, the conversation from the next room caught his attention and he paused to listen.

"I don't know Jim," came Mr. Harris' voice. "she would wake up with in the middle of the night, obviously upset, and never explain why." It was obvious from the concern that Mr. Harris was speaking about Susanna, intriguing Michael more and more.

"Oh Paul, when did this start."

"Well, it was bad when she was little, but then it went away." There was the clink of coffee cup to saucer and Michael risked incing closer to the dining room entrace. "Didn't really start affecting her again until a couple months ago."

"And that's when she started asking about Karen?" Mr. Evan's voice asked the exact question Michael had been kicking around in his head all evening. "And about Roswell?"

"Yeah." Mr. Harris sighed loudly and Michael imagined him rubbing a strong hand across the shaved baldness of his head. He sounded so defeated—certainly a change from the man who had eagerly explained his Iron Man training schedule an hour earlier. "I dunno Jim, it was the only thing I could think to do. I just want her to be happy again."

Michael turned, about to slip back out the front door when he caught site of the kitchen again. Susanna was still standing in front of the sink, very much in the same position she'd been in when he'd snuck up on her before. But now, from this distance and angle, Michael had a clear view of her reflection in the large window in front of her. And sure enough, the trembling of her shoulders could only be caused by the tears running down her face.

He was out the doors seconds later and by Isabel's side, pushing her away from the front walk before she could speak and possible draw the attention of the three in the dining room. After a couple minutes of walking, with Michael pushing the pace, Isabel grab his arm. "What took you so long Michael? You don't even have your jacket and you're acting strange. Stranger than normal."

Michael cursed his lack of jacket but did not stop walking, offering only a hasty remark which frightened Isabel enough to follow silently. "We need to talk to Max."


End file.
